


Waste Not

by spikala



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-06
Updated: 2013-04-06
Packaged: 2018-09-19 20:16:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9458807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spikala/pseuds/spikala
Summary: On Kaliida Shoals Medical Centre, Nala Se and her faithful clone aide Essix struggle to keep injured clones from being reconditioned. However their task is about to get much harder with the arrival of an Auditor from Kamino. Features minor canon and OCs.





	1. One Less For Kamino

**Author's Note:**

> I should warn you now, if the blurb didn't give it away, that this story will be dealing with the issue of forced-euthanasia and there will be some swearing - that's why this story is T-rated.

_Reconditioning was never meant to be a death sentence. The man who originally proposed it thankfully did not survive to see the travesty that Tipoca City Administration made of his suggestion._

_Any manufacturing process is bound to produce some defective product. It is inevitable. What is different about industrial cloning is that new uses can be found for sub-standard units. The adaptability of the Jango units has been established in earlier studies, notably the Command Clone study (File_ _XB/A/234.179_ _) from 18,968 post-Flood. So there really is no need to cull units unless absolutely necessary. Unfortunately, the Administration has taken a narrower view of the subject._

_Only time will tell if they discover my deception._

—Private memoirs of Nala Se, Administrator of Kaliida Shoals Med Centre. 18,978 post-Flood.

* * *

.

Life was unusually quiet on Kaliida Shoals Medical Centre. In the station's tiny hydroponic section, tucked away amidst the lush foliage, Essix, Chief Aide to Administrator Nala Se, was taking full advantage of the lull in activity and enjoying a fragrant cup of kopi tea while he sorted through the mountain of datafiles that required his attention.

Essix leafed through another couple of patient files, noting that these troopers had been cleared for duty—green across the board—and were due to ship out within the next seven-day. All of the less severely injured clones from the recent Republic engagement had already been returned to their units. Now the patients who had been more seriously hurt were starting to follow suit. Most were now in the final stages of recuperation, awaiting final medical clearance. The Grand Army never stood still, not with the war heating up by the day and the casualties mounting. Infantry companies were being cobbled together out of any troopers able to carry a rifle. Naturally, there was a mess of datafiles and bureaucratic work to accompany the chaos.

The door to the hydroponics section squeaked as it slid open, making him jump. Essix quietly cursed himself for a less than commendable display of self-control and made a note on his datapad to get that door serviced as soon as possible— the servomotors were obviously on the blink.

An armoured trooper carrying a medic's backpack came through the opening, his helmet tilting to and fro as he looked around. After a beat, he gave up his search and came over to Essix. Essix frowned slightly; he didn't recognise the man. He must be the replacement for Maret who'd been seconded to an infantry company a few days ago.

The medic snapped out a crisp salute. "Excuse me, sir."

Essix sighed inwardly even as he stood to return the salute. _This is a medical station, not the front lines. You don't need to salute._ "How can I help you?" he asked.

The medic popped his bucket off, the seals hissing slightly as he did so, and tucked it under an arm. "I've just been transferred to this med centre and I was told to report to Chief Aide Essix, sir. I was informed that he was in here." The medic looked nervous; his first task in his new posting was going awry. It was obvious that this one was going to have a tough time adjusting to the less-martial atmosphere of Kaliida Shoals.

"You're speaking with him," Essix said mildly.

The man's eyes nearly bugged out of his sockets, but as Essix watched, he collected himself enough to snap back to full military attention. "Sir! Medic Forr reporting for duty as ordered. Sir!" he barked out.

Essix pressed his lips together. _I ask for someone diplomatic and they give me another shiny jar-head._ Still, it wasn't the other man's fault. He wasn't to know that the second in command of the Kaliida Shoals Med Centre was a clone. It was an unprecedented situation and one that had resulted in quiet pride amongst the clone medical personnel and chagrin amongst the normally superior Kaminoan technicians.

"At ease. You'll find we are a bit relaxed on military protocol here. I am neither an officer nor an NCO. Essix, if you please." A look of confusion crossed Forr's face and Essix muffled a groan. "You can call me 'sir' if that would be easier for you," he conceded.

Forr looked a touch less perplexed, but not by much. Essix held out his hand and the medic handed over his personnel data chip. Essix slotted it into his datapad, and looked it over, assigning Forr a work group and billet before he removed the chip and returned it.

"I'm assigning you to the Cresh Team. Your new team is mixed – brothers and Kaminoans." Essix caught the medic's nervous swallow and fixed the greenhorn with a steely eye. "Your team lead, Topuc Ti, is one of the best Kaminoan technicians we have. Things run smoothly on this station and I want it kept that way." He paused to make sure it was all sinking in. "If you need to speak with the Administrator for any reason, speak either to your Team Lead or to me. If you do speak with her, she is to be addressed as Madame Administrator or Madame Se, do you understand?"

Forr swallowed again. "Yes, sir."

"Very good. You'll be bunking with the other clones in your Team, room bee dee dash one four eff. I assume you've memorised the station schematics?"

"Yes, sir."

"Excellent." Essix expected no less. Perhaps Forr would fit in after all. "Make your way to Stores. Once you've been issued your kit, stow it in your quarters then report to your Team Leader. Dismissed."

The newest addition to Kaliida Shoal's medical team snapped out another salute, forcing Essix to salute yet again, before he fled the room, bucket in hand.

Essix took a sip of his tea then made a face. It was lukewarm now. So much for a quiet moment—even now, work managed to find him. He stretched, loosening an uncomfortably tight knot of muscle between his shoulder blades and checked his chrono. It was time for the evening meal. He needed to go and make sure Nala Se ate something.

* * *

Nala Se had almost finished her rounds of the convalescent wards when Essix joined her. She didn't often find time away from her duties to walk through the station, to see the men that her staff were patching up, but she liked to. It put faces to the numbers that flicked across the screen of her desk. She nodded in greeting, her head swaying gracefully on its long neck. He fell in a step behind her as was his custom.

A baritone clone voice filtered out from the room ahead of them. "What's the point in patching us up to send us back to the front lines?"

"Kriffing aiwha-bait probably figure it's more efficient than having to grow a new batch."

The rooms on Kaliida Shoals were designed to funnel sound so that staff could keep an ear out for any medical emergencies. None of the patients ever seemed to realise that. Consequently, every so often she would run into a less than discrete discussion. She was amused to note that Essix started scuffing his boots against the sleek white floor as he walked. No doubt he was hoping the patients would hear the noise and change the topic of conversation.

The voices continued, oblivious to their approach. "Have you met some of the new nurses from the Republic – now there's a reason to be droid bait!"

"Mmmm… Nice to be fussed over, that's for sure."

The first voice had more to say. "They're a bit sensitive though, one of them kept apologising the whole time she was changing my dressing. Thought she was gonna burst into tears."

They were now only ten meters away from the ward, but the conversation continued. "Makes a change from those creepy long-necks. You notice they never show emotion – make the Jedi look like kids hyped up on sparklemint sticks."

One of the room's occupants must've finally heard the squeak of Essix's boots against the medical centre's slick white floor. She heard the ferocious "shut up!" from the corridor, but gave no sign of it. After all, she was here to heal the troopers, not fuss over their opinions of her or her species, which sometimes she felt was rightly deserved.

The conversation took on a muted tone of deliberate casualness as she entered the ward and began checking the charts hung up beside each bed. Each of the patients had a look of guilt and dread on their faces as she moved around the room. She knew they were afraid of her: afraid of what she could do to them, and with good reason. A single notation on their files would send them back to Kamino for reconditioning, no questions asked. She was in charge of this station after all, and Kaminoans weren't known for their benevolence or understanding; at least not in the experience of these men.

Most of the patients in this ward were healing well. She could see their charts glowing faint green where the attending physician had marked them as RTU – Return to Unit. All green except one patient who was staring silently at the ceiling. His arms, lying outside the coverlet, were heavily bandaged. His flimsy clearly marked as red —Recondition. She paused a moment at the foot of the cot.

Essix retrieved the red-lit chart and started flicking though it, narrating as he went. "Patient's burns are responding well to treatment, but the projected recovery time is four days outside the acceptable turn-around."

Nala Se watched as the patient's face tightened almost imperceptibly. She laid a hand on the patient's covered leg. "Do not be concerned. You will re-join your unit when you are healed." She made a notation on the data chart and the red light faded to amber – Pending. That ought to buy him a reprieve of at least five days, she thought. Enough time so that his burns would be 'worth' fixing.

Time — that was all most of the men needed, but that was the one commodity that was scarce in the medical centres. Tipoca City was always pushing her fore better patient turn-over. If soldiers didn't heal fast enough or had an injury that took a while to heal, they were often slated for reconditioning. It was more _efficient_. She loathed that word.

It was getting late in the station's day cycle; a droid trundled in, laden with trays of food, and began passing them out to the patients. It must be time for the evening meal. She caught a glimpse of what looked like stew and various slices of vegetables. At least it smelled all right. When she'd first started here, the meals were universally unappealing, bland, and awful-smelling even if they were perfectly nutritionally balanced for recuperating humans. Essix had tactfully brought it up, and after tasting the food for herself, Nala Se had put her foot down, and the menu had improved substantially for both staff and patients.

"Madame." Essix had come up behind her quietly.

She was now refilling water glasses. The silly server droid never remembered to check if the patients had anything to drink. She would have to have a word with someone about it. "Yes, Essix?"

"I would be remiss in my duties if I did not insist that you refresh yourself, Madame."

The patient in the corner, Warwick, had wide eyes as he took in the exchange. Nala Se amused herself by wondering what the trooper would make of the friendship she shared with her clone aide. The poor man had probably never seen anything like it.

"I still have one last stop to make," she said. "You should go on ahead."

Essix cleared his throat, but didn't reply. He also didn't leave for dinner.

She let out a gentle sigh. "Very well. I will look in quickly on our way to the dining hall."

She swept out of the room, hearing the patients in the ward perk up and start chatting again once they thought she was out of earshot. She didn't have the heart to correct them and instead listened to the troopers griping about the food and trying to trade food items. They were obviously feeling much better if working out the exchange rate between topato and neeli frond paste was their biggest concern.

Her last stop was always the same.

She peeked through the doors to see that Five-Seven-One hadn't moved. He was still lying in his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling while his ward-mates laughed and chatted around him. He wasn't responding to his name, only his number, and shunned the company of other clones. It was almost as though he was trying to be reconditioned, refusing to engage with life. Five-Seven-One was a mystery that stumped even Essix, who could be counted on to enlighten her on the finer points of clone troopers and humans. Physically, Five-Seven-One was ready to return to light duties, mentally… Something would have to be done.

Essix touched her arm lightly and Nala Se remembered that she was keeping him from his dinner. She cast one last look at her enigmatic patient, and left.


	2. Plots and Confessions

_In almost every industry, some element of destructive testing is necessary. What we do here on Kamino is no different._

_As a manufacturer, we have an obligation to our customer to ensure that we give them the best product possible. Kamino's fortune rises and falls with the success of our cloning contracts. We are the best in the galaxy at what we do because we never hand over an imperfect product._

_Whether you want to call it destructive testing, point of failure tests, or comprehensive product checks, the end result is the same: you start with a unit and no data, and you finish with no unit, but a good data set. I should not have to remind you of this._

_I am aware that your Generation was designed so that you might feel things more keenly than the preceding Generations. You have spent considerable time with these units but that should not affect your actions. This unit was created solely to provide answers and it is no different from any other lab animal. You have no qualms when it comes to lab rodents. This is no different: we need M-24's data, and you need to remember why we do the work that we do._

_That is why I have assigned you to carry out the reconditioning and dissection tomorrow. You are dismissed. I will hear no more on this matter._

\- Senior Scientist Ni Timor lecturing Nala Se prior to the deactivation of experimental clone unit M-24. 18,970 post-Flood.

* * *

.

Essix and Nala Se sat in the middle of no-being's land, smack in the middle of the divide. The dining hall on Kaliida Shoals was stringently split into clone and non-clone; not through any design of architecture or policy. After ten hours of doggedly getting along, most of the staff sat with their own species for meals, a respite from the forced politeness. The menu tonight had included a rare treat—nerf steak—and Essix was happily indulging in his favourite meal. Across the table, Nala Se had barely touched her food.

"I am concerned about Five-Seven-One."

Essix didn't need his datapad. He knew who Nala Se was referring to. "Madame, your shift is over. There is no need to discuss work during meal time."

She didn't reply, instead opting to push her half-eaten food around the plate with her fork. The scrape of the utensil on the plate grated, making him wince. His movement seemed to catch her attention and she gave up on the pretence of eating, putting her fork down. "I apologise, Essix. I forgot how you dislike that."

"Not a problem, Madame." Essix stole a wistful glance at his meal. He still had a quarter of his steak to go, but it would be impolite to keep eating when Nala Se was obviously troubled, not to mention unprofessional. He pushed his plate aside.

"Madame, I find myself no longer hungry," he lied. "Shall we?" He stood and collected her plate, neatly stacking it atop his.

She offered him a faint smile, but her eyes remained solemn. She stood up and followed him though, past where they stacked their used trays and then out the door.

Back in their shared office, she broached the subject again. "Five-Seven-One is proving to be most perplexing, Essix. I am not sure what should be done."

They sat down in their 'brainstorm' configuration around Essix's desk; Nala Se took the chair that Essix had in front of his desk for visitors, while Essix sat in his preferred spot on the floor. His chair was there, hovering above him in the roof space and waiting, but like the whole office, it had been designed for the much taller Kaminoans and he refused to use it afterhours, much to Nala Se's amusement. Nala Se's workspace was tucked away in an alcove to one side, but it lacked the airy feeling of the main room, which is why often the two friends could be found working at Essix's desk.

Essix brought up Five-Seven-One's file and enlarged the image so that Five-Seven-One's face rotated, shimmering blue above the desk. Nala Se liked to see the patient's face during their brainstorm sessions. The holos might look the same to an outsider, but Essix could tell the difference. So could Nala Se. It was yet another thing that endeared her to him and made sure he gave her his all and kept an eye on her.

The latest addition to the datafile was the results from Five-Seven-One's recent physical fitness tests. A small notation at the end of the report told Essix that Dale had been in charge of testing. Dale was the closest thing to a friend that Essix had amongst the clone medics, most of whom regarded him with a mixture of awe and suspicion because of his rank and friendship with a Kaminoan. According to Dale, Five-Seven-One had passed the test, only just, but Dale had added a note that the trooper was a mess psychologically speaking.

Since his admission, CT-58-2571 hadn't said a word unless ordered to. Essix was sure that the trooper had a name, but he wouldn't reveal it and responded only to his designation. Names were special, given to you by your closest buddies or earned: no one gave their name away, ever. Given how hard clones fought for and secretly yearned for a name in the sterile halls of Kamino, this reversion back to a blank slate was more than a little troubling. He was also withdrawn; Essix had noticed that none of the other patients in the ward made an effort to include him. It was though Five-Seven-One projected an invisible ray shield that kept out everyone. The man was a conundrum. Essix didn't much care for conundrums, they tended to upset Nala Se.

Neither of them would probably go for this suggestion, but still... Essix had to play devil's advocate on this, give her a chance to pull back from the slippery slope they'd both found themselves on.

"His injuries have almost healed, Madame. According to the regulations, it is past time for him to be assigned to a different company." He took a breath then pushed on, the words feeling dry and bitter in his mouth. "Perhaps we should consider red-carding him if he's not mentally prepared to deal with returning to battle."

She didn't even hesitate. "No. I do not feel comfortable doing that, Essix." His respect for her rose even higher

"Yes, Madame."

Essix breathed a quiet sigh of relief. He wouldn't have felt right sending the man to Kamino just for breaking down after all his friends had died. Still, he couldn't stay here forever. Tipoca City's rules about reconditioning could be bent, but not broken. The longer troopers stayed on in the med centre, the harder it was to hide the electronic trail. Essix was already hard pushed to mask their ratios of the reconditioned clones. He suspected it was only a matter of time before someone noticed something unusual. Essix had never been trained on how to hide data, only cope with it as an administrator, but he knew that the other med centres that were run by more conventional Kaminoans had grim statistics. One out of every five clones that went in either didn't come out or were assigned to Kamino for reconditioning.

They sat, each lost in their thoughts as the holo-image of Five-Seven-One looked down at them. Time was running out for him.

Nala Se had her eyes shut in concentration, one hand to her brow, the other idly tracing the same pattern over and over again on the desk top. Essix watched, puzzled: a letter and two numbers: M, 2, 4, repeated endlessly. He wondered what the significance of that sequence was, then dismissed his curiosity. The Administrator was entitled to secrets. He went back to racking his brain for ideas.

It was Nala Se who finally broke the silence. "It is Five-Seven-One's isolation that is most cause for concern, correct?" she asked.

Essix started to nod, then caught himself and replied aloud as per regulations. "Yes, Madame." He was starting to lapse into unprofessional behaviour, a clear sign it was past time for him to retire for the evening.

"Perhaps we should intervene then," she suggested.

"Make him interact with someone?"

"A crude suggestion, but a good one." Nala Se reached for the datapad and typed something. A second, almost identical face joined the ghostly image of Five-Seven-One. "May I suggest CT-96/3011? His commanding officer made a note that he has proven to be most, ah, outgoing. I believe he may succeed in drawing out Five-Seven-One."

Essix gestured and Nala Se slid the datapad over so he could take a closer look at the file. Essix flicked through the medical notes and training records, rapidly absorbing the information. "Goes by the name of Hops. He's in with a cracked clavicle and a transverse fracture of his right ulna. Both injuries are mostly healed," he mused. "This could just work."

Nala Se brightened, her eyes crinkling slightly in the understated Kaminoan way that, in a human, would be the equivalent of a beaming smile. "Then I shall begin the necessary paperwork."

Essix's datapad chimed, a new transmission had arrived from off-station. His frown deepened as he read the message.

"I think I will have to worry about Five-Seven-One, Madame Se. You have more pressing matters to attend to right now," he said. "Tipoca City is sending an Auditor. He will arrive tomorrow." His words dropped like a brick in heavy water, instantly dampening their elation at hatching a plan to help Five-Seven-One.

"That is too soon. We still have patients that will not meet Tipoca's standards." Her tone was as calm and distant as though she were discussing the dining hall's menu.

Another being not familiar with Kaminoans might've thought she was unfazed by the imminent inspection and the possibility of their deception being uncovered, but he noticed she had paled slightly, even as her fingers never stopped tracing out the mysterious em-two-four.

Kaminoans weren't the same as humans—Essix knew that. They had different motivators, responded differently. More than once, he had caught himself waiting for a human reaction from Nala Se which was never forthcoming, but if he didn't know better, he would've thought she was afraid. The thought in itself was enough to make _him_ afraid.

He decided to brazen it out instead. "We'll cope, Madame. Just leave it to me."

* * *

It was customary for Essix and Dale to play a game or two of dejarik in the evenings. Between denigrating each other's strategy, they indulged in debates, a rare chance for both men to shuck off the unquestioning obedience that they'd been taught and try to find their place in the 'verse. It had taken Dale a while to get comfortable with such 'non-compliant' behaviour, but eventually he'd followed Essix's lead and was just as subversive now. Essix was proud of him. Essix waited until they were both deep in the game, Dale was taking an aggressive if reckless stratagem again.

Essix came straight to the point. "I wanted to discuss a particular patient with you, Dale. CT-58-2571."

"Yes, sir. I conducted his physical yesterday at 1330 hours, the report was filed by 1600 hours"

"No sir's, Dale. This conversation is," Essix paused, trying to find the best way to phrase this, "off the books, if you catch my drift. This is just a conversation between friends."

Dale still looked wary, his posture rigid. "Since when does my friend do anything _not_ by the book?"

Essix sighed. His reputation was working against him. He changed tack. "What do you think we do here at this medical centre?"

This was an easy one. "We save lives," Dale replied promptly.

"That we do." Essix leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers together. "Have you heard of the phrase, 'turn-around time'?"

"I've heard of it, but I'm not familiar with its meaning."

"Kaliida Shoal is administered by Kamino and our procedures come from there. Consequently, every patient has a value index based on their experience, rank, and skill set," Essix explained.

Dale nodded to show he was following along and Essix kept going. "Every injury has been given an acceptable range of recovery times—a turn-around time, if you will. Patients who don't heal in time, or have a low value index to recovery ratio, are to be sent to Kamino for reconditioning. Shortly after their arrival, they are killed," he said bluntly.

Dale recoiled, his shock and disgust were clear to see on his face. Then his eyes narrowed. "The red cards. All those men—"

"Were killed." Essix cut in. "Yes."

It looked like Dale was struggling for words. Essix waited.

Finally, Dale leaned forward over the board. "And all of this time, during all of our conversations about life and the outside world, you didn't think tell me about this?" he hissed, his normally calm voice taut with anger.

"I couldn't."

Essix's calm seemed to defuse some of Dale's anger and he lapsed into sullenness. "So why tell me now?"

"Because I need your help. Simply put, I've been keeping clones back, refusing to red-card them. Unfortunately, my activities have attracted the interest of Tipoca City and someone will be here shortly to inspect this facility. I need help to make sure patients that shouldn't be here are kept out of sight and…" Essix trailed off, Dale had a very strange look on his face.

"You've been subverting your orders all this time, saving troopers from Kamino?" Dale whispered.

Essix squirmed to hear it put so baldy—so much for his vaunted professionalism. "Well… yes."

Next thing he knew, Dale had grabbed him in a bear hug and was pounding his back enthusiastically. He could hear Dale's rough voice in his ear saying, "I knew it! You sly sod! I knew you weren't as cold as you made out!" Then Dale released him just as abruptly as he had seized him, looking abashed. "Sorry, Essix, I forgot you aren't the most tactile person."

"Not to worry." Essix straightened his crumpled tunic, bemused, but relieved by his friend's enthusiastic reaction.

Dale froze, his colour draining away. "The Administrator! She'll find out!"

"Dale, it's okay." Essix hastened to reassure his friend. "The Administrator is in on the plan. It was actually her idea to start with."

Dale whistled, long and low. "You'd never think it to look at her."

"There's a reason for that." Essix moved a piece and watched as Dale's creature was destroyed. "I take it you've noticed that Kaminoans are very calm, never emotional?" Dale nodded and Essix continued, "If they act unusual, or out-of-spec, they get reconditioned too. Administrator Se is actually quite relaxed, almost human once you get to know her."

Dale's eyes were wide. "I think you and I are going to have a very interesting conversation during our next time game." He tipped over his keypiece, conceding the game, and settled back into the high-backed chair. "Now, there was something that you needed my help with, sir?"

"Good man. Now, here's what I want you to do…"


	3. Enter the Inquisitor

_._

_Every clone knows what it is like to be expendable. How could we not, when the Kaminoans have been ruthlessly weeding out our inferior and non-compliant brothers since before we could open our eyes?_

_One of the mongrel staff members from the Republic was surprised when one of the new medics, Forr, let slip how clones are trained. Next thing you know, the mongrel was spouting off about how a culture of oppressive fear would damage our psyches, that it was unnecessarily cruel, and that we're probably all borderline basketcases that need to be kept away from decent folk._

_I respectfully disagree. It is true that we're probably all a bit damaged having grown up in an environment like that, but I think it would be crueller to send us out to slaughter believing that death isn't a natural and everyday part of life._

_Are you surprised I have opinions? That I dare to disagree with a non-clone? Don't be._

_Every clone has opinions and feelings. We're just better at hiding them than mongrels_ _—_ _we have to be._

— _Unencrypted_ _excerpt from S-5-6's personal records._

* * *

Sek Nor stared out of the shuttle's view port at the medical centre looming in the distance. He was not pleased to be coming here. It should've been a simple enough job; fix injured clones, terminate the ones that were too damaged to make repairing them cost-effective. Instead, an anonymous tip had alerted the auditors that things might not be what they appeared on Kaliida Shoals. Knowing who he was to investigate just made the whole endeavour even more distasteful.

He stretched, trying to relieve the stiff muscles in his neck. Emotions were weakness, he reminded himself. Once, just once, a long time ago, he had let them get out of hand and he had been atoning for it ever since. It didn't matter if he was investigating Prime Minister Lama Su himself: Sek Nor would do his job.

* * *

Five-Seven-One was studying the ceiling again. Each panel had small depressions in it. For what, he had no idea. There were between five hundred and four and five hundred and twenty seven dimples per ceiling panel. He'd counted the one directly above his head at least eight times and come up with a different number each time. A proper trooper would've gotten it right the first time.

The door cycled open with a quiet hiss. Five-Seven-One didn't bother looking to see who it was. He figured that it was probably one of the medics, come to either try drawing him out again or finally slate him for reconditioning. He hoped it was the latter. He would only get brothers killed if he went out there again.

"Atten-shun!"

Five-Seven-One's body responded to the command before he could think about it, all the hours of drilling making it an instinctive movement. His head swam a bit from the sudden change in position, but luckily his left leg held out, aching only a bit. As he'd thought, his visitor was a clone medic, but he had another trooper with him. The trooper was dressed in the soft fatigues that all patients were issued, his right arm in a sling.

Five-Seven-One thought he recognised the medic who, he was fairly sure, had removed his cast and run him through a physical a few days prior. The other patient was new though. The pair crossed over to him, the medic watching him with an uncomfortably perceptive look.

"At ease. You boys will be rooming together for the duration of your stay. Five-Seven-One, Hops. Hops, Five-Seven-One."

The other patient, Hops, nodded a friendly hello towards him, which he ignored. The medic was still talking. "My name is Dale, I'll be in charge of your primary care and rehab for the remainder of your stay on Kaliida Shoals. Report to the rehab room at 1600 hours." He left, leaving the two of them to stare each other down.

"Good to meet you, brother _."_ Hops cracked a grin and offered his good hand to shake.

Five-Seven-One ignored Hops's outstretched hand and flopped back down on his cot to stare at the ceiling again. "I'm not anyone's brother anymore."

The other cot creaked as the newcomer sat down. "Sure you are. You're as much Jango as I am —I'd know that scowl anywhere."

* * *

An Auditor. Nala Se tried to compose herself. She knew that Essix would have taken care of the administrative side of the inspection. She had caught him berating some of the newer medical aides over the sloppiness of their workstation earlier today. Since the ominous message had arrived the day before, she didn't think he had slept. It was typical behaviour from her diligent aide.

She straightened a pile of flimsy that adorned her desk and smoothed the fabric of her trousers, just so she had something to do with her hands. The waiting was the worst part. It was as though she was back in the lab with Ni Timor, being reprimanded over some point she'd forgotten, or for getting too close to her test subjects. She wondered what her old mentor might think of her now; subverting orders to save clones. It was purely an academic question; he had been culled years before.

Now the same colourless small-minded people were coming here. Nala Se felt a small frisson of fear uncurl deep inside her, down in the box she kept all those pesky emotions. She visualised a box, as her personality sculptor had instructed, put her fear and all her emotions inside and closed the lid. She needed to focus. Only she could do this. Essix could not help her.

She stole a glance through the open connecting door at her aide, who was working at his desk, an air of quiet efficiency radiating from him. He could be almost Kaminoan at times with his stoicism and dedication to his work. She hoped that he had managed to mask their subterfuge deep in the records of Kaliida Shoals Med Centre. In hindsight, she realised that they had done too good a job. Their turnovers and ratio of reconditioned patients were too perfect. They'd set themselves up for this fall.

The door chimed.

"Madame?" It was Essix, looking uncharacteristically worried.

"Very good, Essix. Let them in."

He nodded, pulling on what she thought privately of as his Kaminoan face—politely blank, revealing nothing of his thoughts and feelings—and went to receive their unwelcome guest.

She could hear him in the anteroom. "Welcome to the Kaliida Shoals Medical Centre, Auditor. If you could please step this way?"

"You may dispense with the pleasantries, clone. My business is with Administrator Se." That voice! Emotions rattled around wildly in Nala Se's locked box, but she kept a tight rein on them. It might not be him.

Her faint hope was crushed when a horribly familiar figure swept into her office. _Sek Nor._ She rose to greet him, her face an impassive mask as she gestured towards the seat that descended from the ceiling. "Auditor Nor, greetings. Please be seated and we can get straight to business."

* * *

His new roommate was, in a word, annoying. Five-Seven-One half wondered if the other clone's arm had been broken by his old roommates in a futile bid to shut him up. He hadn't taken any of the hints, ignored the waves of hostility that Five-Seven-One was projecting and kept yammering. It was getting harder and harder to block him out.

"Come on, there's no way that your name is Five-Seven-One. That's a load of bantha poodoo. No one makes it through their first engagement without getting named. What's your name? Sev? Fi? One? Grumpy? C'mon, throw me a bone!"

Five-Seven-One resolutely kept ignoring him. To say something—anything—might encourage Hops further. He buried his head under a pillow, but he could still hear the other man nattering away.

"Five-Seven-One is way too much of a mouthful. No way your squad let you keep that handle. You're giving me a sore mouth here, making me rattle it off each time. C'mon, what's your real name? 'Fess up. Don't make me slice your files."

Five-Seven-One sat bolt upright. "No!"

Hops rolled his eyes. "Finally! I was beginning to think I'd been moved to the morgue by accident."

"No," Five-Seven-One repeated. "Don't you _dare_ slice my file." He injected as much menace as he could into his tone. Why didn't Hops get it? He didn't want to have a name. His name belonged to a man who had friends and a place in a company where everyone looked after each other. He didn't deserve a name.

The other man wasn't budging. "I will, unless you tell me your name."

Five-Seven-One crossed his arms. "Do that and I'll break your other arm."

His threat was ignored. Hops just shrugged. "At least I'll be able to cuss you by name while you're doing it."

"Go to hell!"

"You first."

Hops produced a datapad out of nowhere and started tapping away at it. With a speed that surprised even himself, Five-Seven-One leaped out of bed and grabbed for the datapad, trying to snatch it away.

Hops held it out of reach, eyeing Five-Seven-One. "Name or I slice."

"Give that frakking thing here!"

"Name."

"Give it! Or so help me—"

"Name."

Five-Seven-One remained stonily silent, trying to ignore a twinge from his newly healed leg bones.

"Fine. Let's see… pulling up file on cee tee—"

Five-Seven-One lunged for the datapad, but Hops yanked it out of reach again.

"Name."

Frustrated beyond all measure, Five-Seven-One just glared at him, feeling his hands shake with rage. He hadn't been this angry or this frustrated, or this anything in a long time.

"Name, or…"

Hops began to move the datapad back, he was going to look in his file. Five-Seven-One couldn't stand the idea of someone else seeing his weakness, his failure.

"Jud." The word tumbled out. He felt like he was losing himself all over again, the walls he'd built up over the past days destroyed in an instant by this feckless gawp of a trooper.

Hops paused in what he was doing.

"My name is Jud," Five-Seven-One repeated dully, feeling his walls crumbling down around him.

* * *

Something wasn't right. Nala Se was wound up far tighter than Essix had ever seen her. Far more than a cursory inspection warranted. She had been ensconced in her office with the Auditor for hours now. The end of the shift had come and gone. Essix had interrupted with trays of food several times and each time they had been neck deep in reports and figures.

He stifled a yawn, feeling his eyelids droop, and reached for his mug of caf. Empty. According to the chrono he'd been awake for forty three hours now. His lack of sleep was beginning to catch up to him. Luckily he had that famed Jango stamina to draw on, not to mention the sleep-deprivation training sessions that all clones on Kamino were subjected to.

Speaking of clones... Essix stretched, shifting in his chair, and pulled up Dale's latest report on Five-Seven-One's progress from the station's computer. His eyebrows went up as he read. Apparently Hops had managed to do in a few hours what the rest of the staff hadn't managed in days, found out Five-Seven-One's name—impressive. The report on the physio wasn't quite so good though. Neither Jud nor Hops had passed and Dale had noted that this was partly due to Jud's reluctance to work as a team. Essix frowned. That was not good. If Jud couldn't snap out of it, Essix might be forced to send him to Kamino after all. There was no way in _haran_ he was going to be responsible for getting more men killed because he'd marked someone unfit for duty as RTU.

A yawn threatened to escape him. Then another and another. He was caught in a storm of yawning. When he had control of himself again, Essix glanced sidelong at the closed door. It was odd to see a door there; Nala Se usually preferred to leave it open. Just then, as though in answer to his thoughts, the door slid open, revealing Nala Se and Sek Nor standing there. Both of them looked exhausted, even whiter than normal and lines etched around their mouths where there were none before. He rose.

"Essix, would you be so kind as to escort Auditor Nor to his quarters?"

"Yes, Madame."

The Auditor held up a hand to forestall his movement. "I have no need of an escort. Having been on this station before, I am quite capable of finding my way around."

Nala Se inclined her head in gracious acceptance. "Very well. Good evening, Auditor."

Their visitor swept out of the office, clutching onto a datapad and stack of flimsies. As the door hissed shut behind him, Nala Se slid into the chair opposite Essix.

"Are you alright, Madame?" he asked. He'd never seen her so drawn and white before. Even for a Kamionan she was alarmingly pale.

"I will be fine. It has just been a taxing day."

"If I cannot escort the Auditor, will you at least let me walk you to your chambers, Administrator?"

She seemed to pause for a while, mustering her strength. "I would appreciate the company, my friend."

Perhaps later he could ask her why the Auditor got her hackles up, why she was so uncomfortable around him. But just then another yawn threatened to escape him and Essix decided that maybe his questions could wait until tomorrow.


End file.
